Sometimes I hear a whisper,
The slightest hum of her voice,
Eyes scavenge the plains before me,
For a glimmer of her,
For a glimmer of hope,
Alas! There is none,
Nothing but the thoughts of a melancholic mind.
Sometimes the wind carries a fragrance,
Redolence of our past embrace,
Lips spread to call out her name,
For a sight of her,
For a sight of love,
Alas! There is none,
Nothing but the thoughts of a melancholic mind.
Sep 6, 2022
Sep 6, 2022 at 9:41 AM UTC
Sometimes I hear a whisper,
The slightest hum of her voice,
Eyes scavenge the plains before me,
For a glimmer of her,
For a glimmer of hope,
Alas! There is none,
Nothing but the thoughts of a melancholic mind.
Sometimes the wind carries a fragrance,
Redolence of our past embrace,
Lips spread to call out her name,
For a sight of her,
For a sight of love,
Alas! There is none,
Nothing but the thoughts of a melancholic mind.
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